


So Cute It's Criminal

by rockmusicplays



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hardened criminals with gooey marshmallow centers, Kittens, Len is a brat, Nonsense, Sara is an enabler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:19:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6330799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockmusicplays/pseuds/rockmusicplays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A side mission to mess with one of Savage's business interests results in a few extra passengers boarding the Waverider.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Cute It's Criminal

**Author's Note:**

> This was the result of too much caffeine and not enough sleep. What I'm calling a 'rough draft' of this story was originally posted on my Tumblr.

Turning Mick and Len loose to do what they did best had become Rip’s go-to move when they couldn’t nail down a solid lead on Savage’s movements. Even if it was at best a mild inconvenience for the immortal tyrant, the two rogues were more than happy to disrupt his cash flow any way they could. 

From old fashioned bank robbing, to removing ill-gotten valuables from Savage’s various properties before he could sell them off. And on one particularly memorable occasion, looting the warehouse that served as headquarters for a highly lucrative bootlegging operation of as much booze as the pair of them and their accomplices could carry before Mick burned the place to the ground.

While Sara and Jax hauled crates onto the jump ship, Len hung back to make sure Mick didn’t get carried away. Their resident pyro however, was nowhere to be found. Len strode back inside the warehouse, cold gun at the ready. 

“Mick!” Len called out, scanning the rows of stacked wooden crates for any sign of his partner. “We’re on a schedule here.”

There was an answering grunt from somewhere at the back of the building. Len holstered his weapon and headed in the direction of the sound. He found Mick crouched in front of an old metal office desk, heat gun lying abandoned atop the pile of old newspapers spread across the surface. 

Len heard rather than saw the source of Mick’s distraction. Before Len had the chance to say a word, Mick reached one hand under the desk and grabbed Len’s parka with the other. A moment later, he tucked a kitten into Len’s pocket.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“Got no way of carrying ‘em,” Mick replied, adding a second kitten in with the first. 

“And why is that my problem?” Len hissed. It wasn’t that he disliked cats. They were vastly preferable to dogs for a number of reasons, none of which made it okay for his partner to be filling his parka with tiny, squeaking balls of fur.

Wordlessly, Mick jerked a thumb in the direction of yet another stack of crates and proceeded to scoop a third kitten into Len’s other pocket. Barely visible in the shadows along the wall was what Len assumed was mama cat. Rather, what _was_ mama cat. She couldn’t have been dead very long judging by the lack of smell, but Len didn’t care to take a closer look.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the now four squirming, mewling little animals on his person. “So what's the plan here? Take them back to the Waverider and hope Rip doesn’t notice?” Len asked, not bothering to hide his irritation. 

Mick got to his feet and shrugged. “Sure.”

“I am _not_ smuggling cats onto a damn time ship, Mick.”

“They’ll die if we leave them here,” Mick replied, fiddling with his heat gun.

“I’m not suggesting you torch the place with them inside,” Len said, frowning. He was a thief, not a psychopath. “Just saying that a better course of action may be to, I don’t know, find a less derelict part of town and leave them for someone else to find.”

“Unless you want me to torch the place with _you_ inside, you might wanna get moving.” To emphasize his point, Mick grabbed one of the bottles of whiskey and hurled it at the desk, aiming his gun at the pool of accelerant. Sighing in frustration, Len headed back to the rest of the team. There was no point trying to have a conversation with Mick until after the job was done.

He found Sara waiting for him outside. “Jax is babysitting the ship,” she said, rubbing her cold hands together.

“And our new friends?”

“Still out.” Sara glanced over her shoulder at the neighboring building, where Savage’s guards were stacked like cord wood against the front wall. 

The sound of breaking glass and crackling timber drowned out the muffled meows emanating from Len’s pockets. With Sara’s attention on Mick’s antics, Len took a moment to check on the stowaways. The pair on the right seemed quite content - likely just glad to be somewhere that wasn’t a cold concrete floor. 

Tucking the flap of fabric covering the pocket opening down inside of it to keep the little guys from suffocating, he cast a quick glance at Sara before doing the same to the left side. No sooner had Len moved his hand away when a fuzzy head popped out, followed by needle-sharp claws digging into his wrist as it tried to pull itself to freedom.

Cursing, Len yanked his arm up. Undeterred, the kitten hung on, back legs flailing at his sleeve as it tried to climb his arm. Before Len could attempt to pry it loose, an explosion shook the ground beneath their feet. 

Sara was already halfway to the warehouse door, Len at her heels, when Mick came stumbling out. There was a chunk of glass sticking out of his shoulder and his pant leg was smoking slightly, but he seemed to be in one piece. 

“I think we’re good here, pal,” Len said, squeezing Mick’s uninjured shoulder. Mick turned back towards his handiwork, looking positively gleeful.

“You can watch it burn from the air,” Sara offered, laying a hand against his back. Mick gave no response, but allowed Sara to guide him towards the still-cloaked jump ship. He headed straight to the cockpit, and a beat later Jax appeared.

“He knows he’s got a hunk of glass in his arm, right?” he asked warily. Len waved him off.

“Just get us in the air. Gideon can deal with him when we get back to the ship.”

Shaking his head, Jax ducked back into the cockpit. Sara closed the hatch and stepped around Len to join him. The craft’s engine hummed to life, prompting Len to go grab a seat. He’d taken all of two steps when something brushed the back of his neck, making him jump.

“Mrrrow!”

“Son of a bitch,” Len muttered, reaching blindly behind his head in search of the sneaky little bastard that had taken advantage of Len’s temporary distraction to climb into the hood of his parka.

“Snart?” Sara poked her head around the edge of the doorway. Len froze, hand hovering just above his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

“Absolutely. Everything i- SHIT!” The kitten sunk it’s teeth into the tip of his index finger, paws clamping down on his knuckle and keeping him from shaking the critter loose.

Sara burst out laughing.

“A little help?” Len scowled, free hand supporting the kitten’s body so that the full weight of it wasn’t dangling off of his now-bleeding finger and holding the little twerp out towards the amused assassin. The kitten let go the moment Sara touched it’s back, giving its full attention to the newcomer.

“Well hello there!” Sara cooed, scooping the little scrap of grey and white fur out of Len’s hand and cradling it against her chest. It was the first time Len had gotten a good look at any of the kittens. “Where did you come from?”

“Mick found them.”

“Them?”

Len made a face, gesturing at his pockets. “He seemed to think they couldn’t fend for themselves.”

“Of course not,” Sara replied. “Look at how tiny she is. She should probably still be with her mother.”

“Is that a cat?” Jax was standing in the doorway, arms folded like he was about to give the pair of them a lecture.

“It was Mick’s idea!” Len and Sara said in unison. 

Jax’s eyebrows shot up. He stared at the two of them for a long moment, then sighed. “You know what? I don’t even care. Just... sit down, so we can get the hell out of here, alright?”

Mick was standing at the controls, gaze fixed on the inferno that was quickly getting out of control. The guards were awake, stumbling away from the flames and in the direction of the jump ship. Len hauled Mick down into the co-pilot seat by the back of his jacket, allowing Jax to get them in the air before someone ran into the invisible spacecraft. Len took the seat behind Mick. Sara sat across from him, holding the kitten in her lap. 

The general chaos covered their assent, allowing the team to depart unnoticed. Once they were airborne, Jax indulged Mick’s request to hover for a few minutes, contacting the Waverider to let the rest of the team know their mission had been a success and they were heading back. Jax wisely didn’t mention the four new passengers they’d picked up.

It was a brief five minute flight back to where the Waverider was parked, and the whole trip consisted of them trying to figure out what to do about the kittens. Once again, Len suggested they drop them off somewhere.

“It’s the middle of winter, Snart,” Mick pointed out. “What are the chances someone finds them before they freeze to death.”

“Or that even if someone does, they actually take care of them?” Sara added.

Len sighed. He could feel a headache coming on. The moment he’d sat down, the other three kittens had come tumbling out, eager to explore. Mick snatched two of them up, but the third one had climbed inside Len’s parka and refused to come out. It was currently clinging to his sweater halfway up his ribs.

“Say we get them on board. Then what?” Len demanded. “Hide them under Mick’s bed? Check in on them between missions?”

“Of course not,” Sara replied, glaring. “We’re going to have to come up with a permanent solution at some point, but right now we just need to keep them safe.”

“And here I was afraid _I’d_ gone soft,” Len groaned. 

“Sara’s right, Snart,” Jax said, powering down the jump ship. “We sure as hell can’t keep them, but we can’t leave them to die, either.”

“Fine. We’ll stash them somewhere, get them some food, and in the morning we’ll come up with a real plan.” Len stood, making one final, unsuccessful, attempt at fishing the kitten out of his coat.

“Deal.” Mick, who’d had one cat perched on his good shoulder while the other paced around by his feet, leaned over and deposited both kittens into Len’s pocket.

“Seriously?” Len snapped.

Sara shrugged, slipping her kitten into Len’s other pocket. “You got a better way to sneak them on board?”

Len clenched his jaw and said nothing.

“Good. Take Mick to the med bay, and drop them in your room on the way there,” Sara instructed. “We’ll get Ray to help unload the crates.”

Len took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. So what if Rip found out? What was he going to do, scold them? It would hardly be the first time he or the others had gotten yelled at. And really, how upset could Rip possibly get over a few harmless baby animals?

None the less, Len dragged Mick off of the jump ship the second the hatch opened, ignoring Ray and Kendra on the way out of the hanger and heading straight for his and Mick’s quarters. Len emptied his pockets onto Mick’s bunk while Mick coaxed the furry barnacle off of Len’s side.

Once all four kittens were safely on the mattress, the rogues headed to the med bay so Gideon could deal with Mick’s shoulder wound and the minor burn on his calf.

Leaving Mick in the AI's capable hands, Len went back to their room. He didn’t want the fuzzy pipsqueaks unsupervised for any longer than was necessary. As it was, they’d all managed to get down off of the bunk and scatter in the few minutes Len had been gone. Snatching up the bitey one as it tried to slip past him into the hallway, Len slid the door shut and started trying to round the others up.

It took several attempts to get the four of them back up on Mick’s bunk. Trying to keep them all in one spot was like... well, like herding cats. For lack of a better option, Len climbed up beside them, lying on his side along the edge of the mattress with his legs bent as sort of a barrier. 

The good news was that they finally decided to stay put. The bad news was that they decided to stay put _on top of Len_.

Admitting defeat, Len made himself as comfortable as he could manage and waited for Mick to get back. As the minutes ticked by, Len found himself studying the little guys.

Sara had referred to the bitey one as a she. Whether that was accurate or not, Len didn’t particularly care. For the moment “she” was behaving, perched on his hip with her eyes shut. While the other three were a mixture of grey and white, she was mostly grey, with one white ear and white on her front paws, like little socks. 

The one sitting on Len’s thigh looked like someone had accidentally dumped flour on it. 

The barnacle was back on his ribs, grey on top save for a splotch of white around it’s left eye and around the base of its tail, and white underneath.

And the one trying it’s damnedest to sit on Len’s head was a patchwork of white and grey with no discernible pattern. 

All four were short haired and blue eyed, and actually kind of cute. Annoying as hell, but cute. 

Officially out of patience, Len grabbed the patchwork kitten and held it in front of his face. It responded by swatting at him. No claws, thankfully. Just the soft pads of its feet tapping against the end of his nose. Len glared. The cat yawned.

“Well isn’t that just precious,” Mick chuckled from the doorway.

“It’s about damn time,” Len complained, gently tossing the kitten in the direction of his feet. The second it hit the mattress, it was already scrambling back towards him, launching itself at Len’s shoulder.

“Sara’s working on the litter box situation,” Mick said, ignoring Len’s struggle to keep Patchwork from walking across his face yet again. “Not that they probably know they’re supposed to use one. I’ll settle for them knowing enough to not shit where they sleep.”

“Oh, this just keeps getting better and better,” Len muttered sarcastically, pinning the persistent kitten against his chest.

“I scored some tuna and bottled water from the mess,” Mick continued, setting the box he’d had tucked under his arm on Len’s bunk and rummaging through it. “There were mice carcasses under the desk, so I’m gonna assume they’re good with real food.”

Mick put the can on the floor, and before the lid was even half open the kittens were converging on him, bumping against the can opener and climbing over each other. Mick huffed out a surprised laugh. “A little help here, Snart?”

Len had half a mind take off and make Mick fend for himself with the little monsters. But this was the happiest Len had seen his partner since post-apocalyptic Star City. Len knelt down beside him, trying his best to move the kittens aside long enough for Mick to finish. 

Retreating to his bunk, Len watched the kittens stuff their faces while Mick poured water into a small bowl and set it next to the tuna can. Sara arrived a few minutes later with a plastic storage container full of what looked suspiciously like actual cat litter.

“Gideon hooked us up,” Sara explained, shaking the container slightly. “Turns out that room can make more than just clothes.”

“Nice,” Mick said appreciatively. There was a brief discussion about where to stick the box, which ended up in the corner by the door, on Mick’s side of the room.

“That is all you,” Len said, pointing to the box once Sara had left to turn in for the night. “I’m going to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mick muttered, topping up the water bowl. 

Len slipped out to use the washroom, and came back to the highly entertaining sight of Mick trying to get all of the kittens into the litter box for what Len assumed was Potty Training 101. Shaking his head, Len changed into sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt and crawled into bed.

Mick was still sitting on the floor when Len fell asleep.

~ ~ ~

The next morning, Len was less than thrilled to discover that he was not alone in his bunk. Barnacle and Patchwork had decided to join him at some point. Barnacle was asleep on Len’s chest, and Patchwork was tucked against Len’s neck.

Bitey was at the water bowl, and Flour was draped across Mick’s face. Mick appeared to be completely fine with that, since he was still snoring. And while it was hard to tell over the racket Mick was making, Len was pretty sure Flour was snoring, too.

Unless Savage had managed to follow the crew halfway across the world since last night - which was highly unlikely since they were in 1927 - there was nothing on the agenda for the Legends today. So if he really wanted to, Len could probably go back to sleep for a while. He debated for a few minutes, watching Bitey pad over to Mick’s bunk and clamber up, walking across Mick’s stomach and disappearing somewhere beside him.

Len decided what he really wanted was a cup of coffee and some breakfast. Preferably before the mess was overrun by the rest of the team. As soon as Len tried to sit up, Barnacle dug his claws in. Len gave an experimental tug, but the kitten wouldn’t budge. Since he was attached to Len’s shirt and not his skin, he decided to leave the cat be for the moment.

Patchwork didn’t seem too bothered by the disturbance. He just stretched his little body out over as much of Len’s now vacant pillow as physically possible and went right back to sleep.

Keeping one hand on Barnacle, Len got to his feet. The kitten started squirming, so Len turned back towards the bed. Rather than allowing himself to be set down somewhere that wasn’t a person, Barnacle climbed up on Len’s shoulder and began to purr.

“Fine. You win,” Len told the clingy little feline. Barnacle purred louder. Scowling, Len swapped his sweatpants for jeans and managed to put on socks and boots without unseating the kitten. As close to dressed as he was going to get given the circumstances, Len went about his morning routine.

It was slightly worrisome how quickly he got used to carrying a cat around with him. By the time he got to the mess, he’d almost forgotten Barnacle was there. He put on a pot of coffee and munched on a banana while he waited for his toast to pop up.

Len was sitting at the table, halfway through his first slice when Stein wandered in, going straight for the coffee pot. The professor grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge and sat across from Len with nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgment. The two men ate their breakfast in silence. Stein was most of the way through his second cup of coffee before he noticed the cat.

“Ah, perhaps this is an odd question, but are you aware that there is a small creature of the feline persuasion perched on your shoulder, Mr. Snart?”

Len considered lying, curious to see if he could make the old guy think he was seeing things. But that joke would only last until someone else woke up, and then Len would have to deal with Stein being pissy with him for however long it took him to get over it. “Got three more if you’re feeling left out, Professor,” Len said finally, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I’m quite certain I’m going to regret asking this, but are you saying that there are multiple cats aboard this time ship?” Stein was clutching his mug as if it could shield him from whatever stupidity Len’s response would inevitably bring to what was supposed to be a quiet morning.

“There are multiple cats aboard this time ship,” Len drawled, smirking at Stein over the rim of his own mug.

“I see.” Stein cleared his throat, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. “These cats. Did they... appear spontaneously? Some sort of space-time malfunction?”

Len damn near choked on a mouthful of coffee. He knew he should just explain the situation, but he couldn’t bring himself to pass up the opportunity to fuck with an under-caffeinated Stein.

Before Len could decide how to respond, Ray came bounding in, humming to himself like the obnoxious morning person that he was. Stein scowled at him, as was the natural reaction to anyone with that much energy this early in the day, cat conundrum momentarily forgotten.

“Good morning,” Ray said cheerfully, pouring what was left of the coffee into a mug for himself. He didn’t bat an eye when neither of his teammates responded. Just went back to humming, rinsing out the carafe and emptying the filter so he could put on a fresh pot.

Barnacle hopped down from his spot, moving from the table to an empty seat to the floor in one fluid motion and making a beeline for an oblivious Ray. Len pressed his fist against his mouth to smother a laugh as the little cat trotted across the room and pounced.

Ray let out a yelp as Barnacle collided with the back of his knee and proceeded to run all the way up Ray’s back, coming to a stop on his shoulder and rubbing himself against Ray’s neck and cheek.

“Oh no,” Ray gasped. “Oh crap. Please tell me this is not what I think it is.”

“Meow!” Barnacle bumped his head against Ray’s chin.

Ray groaned, trying frantically to pry the cat off of him. But just as he’d done with Len, Barnacle refused to let go. 

Stein chuckled, shaking his head at the display. “What seems to be the problem, Mr. Palmer? Not afraid of a little kitty cat, are you?”

“Nope, just allergic. Really, really allergic.” 

Len stopped trying to contain his laughter after that. 

Stein took pity on Ray and helped get the kitten off of him. Ray stumbled out of the mess, eyes visibly red and watering. Stein stood there holding the cat around it’s middle with both hands, seemingly at a loss as to what he was supposed to do with it. Barnacle squirmed in his grasp, and that seemed to make up the professor’s mind for him.

“I believe this is yours,” Stein said, plunking the animal down on Len’s shoulder once again. He went back to his seat and finished his coffee as if nothing had happened. Len took up Ray's half-completed task and got a second pot brewing.

Leaning against the counter, Len reached up to scratch Barnacle’s head with newfound affection. The little cat purred happily, pushing against Len’s fingers. 

“Snart, we have a- oh. I guess we don’t.” Len turned his attention from the kitten to Mick, who was standing just inside the mess doorway. 

“Believe me, I tried to leave him in the room. But he just wasn’t having it,” Len said fondly, rubbing a finger under Barnacle’s chin. 

“You seem awfully chummy with the little guy all of a sudden,” Mick frowned. “What’s going on?”

“I have some great news for you, Mick,” Len replied. “We’re keeping your cats.”


End file.
